It's Easter weekend. As head of the altar guild at our church, Holy Week means I'm busy, busy, busy.
On Maundy Thursday, after the foot washing and Eucharist, everything is taken from the Sanctuary.
On Good Friday, there is only a black cloth on the altar.
Today, everything that was taken out on Thursday had to be put back. Guess who does that....the altar guild. It's not that big of a deal - when enough people show up. I guess putting in the email this year that "Fr. D has expressed some concern about the low attendance" for this job over the past few years wasn't the motivation I thought it would be. Still, the job this morning is one that I, strangely, enjoy most. Today was a bit different. I've been stressing over a piece of cloth all day. A piece of cloth that was last in my hands to be washed and pressed and taken back today with 4 other pieces of cloth. These five pieces of cloth make up the interior of the "tabernacle" where the blessed elements are kept. It's kind of important cloth.
Anyway, I spent a great part of the day incredibly stressed because I couldn't find this cloth! Guess what. I found it 15 minutes before tonight's service was scheduled to start. At my house. Sigh. And ugh.
Tonight, is the wonderful Easter Vigil service where the light is brought back to the world, or at least our Nave. It's a fantastic service. Since it begins in darkness, it starts at 8pm. 8pm, the same time as the kids' bedtime. This would be the down side of all of your babysitters going to your church.
So, I'm at home while Mr. S is at the service. I sent the piece of cloth with Mr. S to the service with specific instructions that it be given to one of two people so that it can at least go in its place before tomorrow morning. You know, when you've stressed about one specific thing for almost 12 hours, it's kinda hard to stop.
Even though it is now 9:30, Twinkle is still up. You know what is on TV?? Of course you do. It's on every year. The Ten Commandments! Moses has yet to be called by God to deliver the Israelites. Whew. I just got to utter a sentence I never thought I'd utter, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. Twinkle asked, "Is that God talking?" Me: "No, honey. That's Charlton Heston. He's definitely not God."
Ah, the stress may finally be leaving my body. That comment may have just been the thing to do it. Is there anything that can't be fixed by joking about Charlton Heston?